


Still

by larksandkatydids



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Heartbreak, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stream of Consciousness, the ending is super rushed lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larksandkatydids/pseuds/larksandkatydids
Summary: After the events of the final lair, Christine has trouble letting go of Erik completely.Just a super stream of consciousness, kind of rambly piece examining Christine's feelings about leaving Erik behind.This is my first fic.  Please comment and review!
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Still

Christine still looks for him. Not in a purposeful way, she hasn’t returned to the cellars or her old dressing room. But she looks at darkened street corners a little too long, finds her eyes drifting towards the city’s rooftops when the sun starts to set. She doesn’t know why, exactly. At first, she told herself it was fear, that of course shadows and lonely hallways would frighten her. That was understandable. But fear is primal and certain, and what she feels is too unsure, it is half relief and half longing. She hates it. She hates that his absence has left a hole in her. She hates that her dreams are filled with him, that she can still feel his hands on her when she wakes. She still doesn’t know if it’s love. It almost makes it worse that she can’t put a name to her longing.  
  
She knows that Raoul has doubts. His kisses are a little too desperate, his embrace at night a little too possessive. Christine tries to reassure him. She smiles even on the days she feels like weeping alone in her room. But Raoul has known her too long and too well to be fooled. He whispers “did you love him?” one night, causing her to choke down her sobs. She was so sure he’d been asleep. When she tells him no, of course not, he makes no reply. He turns away from her and is silent for the rest of the night. He thinks it’s a lie. She wishes she could tell him otherwise, that she could be sure of her feelings.  
  
His voice fills her dreams, but she never sees him. She’s always surrounded by a thick fog, hearing him call to her. She follows his voice, that maddening, beautiful voice But his voice never sounds any closer, she can’t find her way out of the fog. She always wakes up when she feels she’s on the verge of madness.  
  
She wakes before dawn after one such dream. The sky is just starting to turn gray, the city below quiet and pale. Raoul is asleep beside her, his breathing deep and even. She knows he dreams of that night too, he’ll whisper his nightmares to her in their bed when the lights have been put out. But Raoul’s dreams never seem to wake him, a clenched jaw and furrowed brow are his only tells. Christine presses a kiss to his temple before leaving their bed.  
  
The balcony is her sanctuary these days. Here she does not have to see the pitying looks, does not have to hear the whispers about Vicomte de Chagny’s mad wife, and the streets below keep it from being too quiet, so her darker thoughts cannot steal in. She can hear the sounds of the city stirring; carriages and vegetable carts and doors being unlocked. Before she can stop herself, her thoughts drift to him. She wonders if he has ever had something like this, a peaceful moment where he watched the morning begin, with no darkness, no torment, just quiet. She hopes so.  
Raoul would not understand it, but she wants happiness for him or at least, something near enough. His loneliness was so great and terrible, it was an almost palpable thing. She hopes he’ll find some way to ease his pain.  
Perhaps this is why she can’t let him go. She does feel like she’s failed in some way. She couldn’t rescue him, couldn’t make him whole. It’s harsh and unfair, but that lingering guilt is still there. She has known what it is to be the center of someone’s world, and still walk away from them. 

Tears sting her eyes and she brushes them away. She’s not angry at him, she hasn’t been for a long time. She’s not angry at herself either, she realizes with sudden calmness. Her heart aches for all she couldn’t give him, and perhaps it always will, but that is something she can live with. 

Christine turns her attention to the city beneath her. The faint hum of the streets slowly rises in the growing dawn. “I will live, Erik,” the thought echoes in her mind as the sun’s light warms her face. “Though I have...though I have...I have...loved you, and part of me loves you still, I will live. Please...find a way to live too.”  
The sky deepens from gray to blue, and Christine turns back to the unlatched balcony door. Inside, Raoul sleeps in their bed, warm and steady, and safe. She’ll return to him in a moment. She’ll hold him close, and when he wakes she will try to love him better, and he will try to understand her, and they will get a little bit better at it each day. She will long for Erik still, and he will never be far from her thoughts, but one day her heartache won’t be so heavy and her tears will dry. But for now, Christine stays on her balcony and watches the day begin.


End file.
